


Bridges Crossed

by NoShabbyTigers



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awkward Romance, F/M, Happy Ending, Mild Profanity, Mollcroft, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 04:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3964798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoShabbyTigers/pseuds/NoShabbyTigers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly had been drinking and feeling sorry for herself until she was comforted by the most unlikely person imaginable - Mycroft Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Taking another fluff break though this one is somewhat less fluffy than the norm. As usual, it started as one story and ended up as quite another. Also, seems as if I struggle writing anything shorter than 6,000 words. Anyone else out there have this problem? Enjoy! 
> 
> Thanks to the brilliant team of Moffat and Gatiss who have supplied me with limitless material and these wonderful characters to explore. Just borrowing...

Bridges Crossed

 _“…circumstances change. Small causes lead to large effects. New paths are added.  
And all anyone can do . . . is choose.”_  

  
― Kelseyleigh Reber, If I Fall

 

Molly was well on her way to getting to getting drunk. She knew better but she couldn’t help herself. She was all alone, carrying a terrible secret and right now she hated all men. Well, not all men just the living ones. Her Da had been a great man but unfortunately he had died young. She knocked back what was left of her vodka shot and ordered another pint.  It was still early and she could take a cab home.

 

They had met at Bart’s in the cafeteria. He said he had been visiting a friend but now she knew he had been lying through his teeth. They had hit it off right away and he had seemed so normal and friendly. They had one date, then another and then he began to casually ask her about Sherlock. She brushed off the questions but he was insistent. They argued but he sent her flowers and apologized and she was stupid and saw him again. Things seemed fine but she was now on her guard and when the subject came up again she stonewalled him and told him she no longer wanted to see him. He grew angry and for a moment she thought he might strike her. Instead, he had turned his frustration and vitriol on her, telling her she was a stupid bitch and that the only reason he targeted her to date was to pump her for information on the dead detective. She was dull and stupid and had been a big waste of his time. He was a reporter for some scandal sheet and he had pursued her, not for herself, but for what information he might be able to weasel out of her.

 

Her anger was deep and strong and she barely remembered telling him to sod off and then taking a cab to a random pub not far from her flat. The first shot of vodka quickly followed up by a pint had taken the edge off and the second round had made the edge disappear. She was now on her third round and small alarm bells were ringing in her head telling her to stop. Her teeth weren’t quite numb so she wasn’t well and truly drunk quite yet. Maybe one more round would take her where no man could hurt her any more, at least for tonight. Good luck with that as she knew the only ending to this sad story was a date with the loo and a splitting headache in the morning. How could she have been so stupid? Again?

 

She regarded the remaining beer in her glass and thought back to all the times that men had disappointed her. Yes, she was petite and looked younger than her years. Yes, she preferred to think the best of people even assholes like this last bastard. Yes, she was giving and open and people often took advantage of her. But, she thought, but…She was also a respected pathologist at St. Bart’s, one of the most prestigious hospitals in London, she had a quiet but sterling reputation on the international pathology front and she was one of the most trusted friends of the famous Sherlock Holmes. Pity he was dead, he would have snapped her out of this regrettable spate of self-pity by kicking her ass.

 

Dead, dead, dead but she knew better.  He was still alive and mostly thanks to her.  No one knew though, no one would ever know except for her, him and his bastard brother Mycroft.  Mycroft was not literally a bastard but he had given her no cause to remotely like him after he threatened her with unknown British Government horrors should she say a word about Sherlock.  No, he was a bastard, a bloody bastard and it was easier to blame him than to assign herself any responsibility on how she had let Sherlock treat her over the years. The trouble with maturity was that it allowed one few illusions about who was responsible for one’s misery.  You, you and you she chanted in her head as she drained her pint.  No more beer for Miss Molly or she would be in the loo for sure in a highly embarrassing position too.

 

She hung her head and her hands clasped her now empty glass. She was useless and needed to pull her head out and get on with her life. Sherlock was dead or as good as dead and there was no way they would ever be together no matter how hard she wanted it. She would have to give up that silly dream and move on.  There was one on every street corner, why couldn’t she find at least one man that was suitable, had half a brain and wouldn’t treat her like crap? Her eyes welled up and tears began to fall, making her face feel tight and her nose to run.  She was not a pretty crier and knew that in just a few short minutes that not only would she look like hell, but that a headache would come up behind her eyes and she would feel poisoned. Time to order some strong coffee, pull herself together and go home.

 

She was about to signal the barman when she slipped sideways off of her barstool and would have ended up on the floor among the peanut shells and god only knew what else if not for a strong hand that caught her by the arm and eased her back onto her stool. She perceived a fine wool suit, grey pin striped, complete with a vest and a dark red tie and then looked up into her rescuer’s face.  Holy crap, it was the bastard himself, sodding Mycroft Holmes.

 

******

Mycroft’s nostrils flared as he entered the depressingly working class pub.  Not all pubs were created equal and some in this category were tolerable. This was not one of them. Greasy floors, questionable cleaning practices and the scent of ancient fryer grease assaulted his senses. The things he did for his little brother.  He did not think Sherlock would ever be grateful enough for Mycroft’s care of his little pets. Well, one little pet, in fact the most important little pet of all, had been busily and efficiently getting herself pissed over some cut rate tabloid charmer that had broken her youthful heart.  How annoyingly boring and predictable. She had been under surveillance since the fall and when his people had called him to let him know that she was in potential peril, his car was close and he had decided to see to it himself.  Perhaps if he put the fear of god, or at least the British Government into her she would cease her tedious and self-destructive behavior.

 

He caught slight of Molly Hooper right away. Tucked into one end of the bar looking small and dejected. Her hair was rumpled, her face blotchy from weeping and she was clutching her empty glass on the bar like a lifeline. She raised her hand to signal the barman just as he drew up beside her. Her eyes flickered to him unseeing and quickly flickered away. As she refocused, she started to slide off the slick vinyl barstool, listing like ship going down for the last final time. He momentarily thought he should simply let her slide to the floor but then thought about the leather upholstery in his car and the unsavory mix underfoot and caught her by the arm instead.  Her eyes snapped up to meet his, fearful at first and then narrowing as they recognized him.

 

“Good evening, Miss Hooper. I have come to take you home as it appears that you have once more decided that getting drunk, alone and in a pub of questionable reputation is an intelligent thing to do. Next time you feel like indulging yourself like an eighteen year old, please let me know and I can arrange for a private but safe manner in which you can drink yourself into oblivion. Do you know how many young women have done exactly as you are doing now and never found their way home?” He shook his head wearily. “More than you will ever know.”

 

Molly looked up into his face, rapidly sobering under his critical gaze. She was still fairly lit but something in his face had stilled the harsh retort she had ready for him and she instead felt ashamed. She knew what happened to some of those young women as they had come across her autopsy tables at the morgue. It had not been pretty, and whether it had been a car or a predator, they were still just as dead. She turned away and hung her head.

 

“S’all right, Mycroft. Just let me get some coffee in me before you take me into custody. Don’t go easy on me as I have been a very bad girl; I screwed the one person I should never screw – myself.  You want a drink?”

 

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. He had expected fury at his intrusion and a series of inebriated insults not this self-deprecation.  The rejection by the tabloid wretch must have been more a blow to her than he had originally thought. It was early and though he knew that the scotch in this fine establishment would be worse than sub-par, he signaled the barman and ordered a scotch for himself and a black coffee for Miss Hooper.  The drinks arrived and he took a sip and quickly put the glass back down, peering at it like it was poison. Sub-par would be a glowing compliment for this swill. He idly wondered if they used it when re-surfacing the bar.

 

He sighed heavily. “Miss Hooper, I have no intention of punishing you any more than you have already punished yourself. It’s true that I do not agree with your methods but you will pay heartily by morning and that is sufficient for me.” He pushed the mug of black coffee towards her. “Drink up and let’s take a short walk before I take you home. Have you eaten?” Molly shook her head. “All right, I think you would feel better after a light meal that is not fried in decades old grease. I know a small café not far from here that should still be open.”

 

Molly sipped the black coffee, its bitterness curling her tongue. “S’why you being so nice to me, Mycroft? I’m sure that scraping me off the floor of a pub was not on your list of things to do this weekend. Why didn’t you just send one of your goons to strong arm me instead?”

 

“I am seldom “nice”, Miss Hooper but I shall take your charmingly naïve statement as a compliment. I was close and felt this situation would be best handled personally. Our mutual friend was quite insistent that I keep an eye on his friends, you in particular, and I am honoring his wishes. As for my “goons”, they are fine young men who put their lives on the line everyday protecting me and other critical government personnel. Although rescuing a maiden from a slovenly barkeep may hold some entertainment value, they have higher and better things to do with their time.” Mycroft rose and extended his arm. “I see you have finished your coffee like a good girl. Shall we?”

 

Good girl, my ass she thought her eyes narrowing as she tried to fathom his motives. His face was neutral in the dim light, he seemed relaxed and she could detect no guile in him. He looked out of place in this seedy establishment, his quiet elegance and superb tailoring drawing every eye in the pub, especially those of the women.  She shook her head and tried to block out the horrific country music playing in the background. Was Mycroft Holmes attractive or did he just look like money to these tarts? She winced, a headache definitely coming on. Why did she punish herself when someone else was evil to her?  God bless an impatient and withholding mother. Not all mum’s fault though. She had a choice in how she reacted to other people. Grow up, Molly.

 

Mycroft’s eyebrows rose in a silent interrogative as he waited for her to pull her thoughts together. She was starting to sober up but a walk in the cool night air and a light supper would bring her along nicely. He once more extended his arm and this time she took it. “Do you have a coat, Miss Hooper?”

 

“No, I’m afraid I left my office in a bit of a hurry tonight. It’s not that cold outside and I have a cardigan.”

 

“Allow me.” He said and slipped his charcoal grey topcoat over her shoulders. She was startled by his thoughtfulness but appreciative of the warmth as fall had arrived early in London and the nights cooled rapidly. The coat was beyond big on her but was warm, soft and smelled of sandalwood and spice. It brushed her ankles and the fine wool fabric was so light it felt like wearing a cloud. Mycroft Holmes might be a right bastard but he was a gentleman.

 

******

 

Molly walked along beside a silent Mycroft Holmes. The night was cold and although the stars were dim as they always were in the bright lights of London, they were still visible. They walked for many blocks and were now skirting a small park. Molly paused and without looking back, cut into the park and walked to its center, her steps quiet on the soft grass. The park was an intimate slice of nature bounded on each side by London streets.  She stood quietly under a tree and waited for Mycroft to catch up with her.

 

They stood silently side by side, Molly looking at the sky and Mycroft looking at her. A light breeze blew through the trees and she closed her eyes as she relished the feel of it on her face. When she finally spoke, it was more to herself than to him. “Isn’t the night lovely? We spend far too much time inside I think. When was the last time you were outside just to be outside?” Mycroft didn’t answer and Molly went on. “I bet it’s been a long time. I know it’s been a long time for me. Pity.”

 

The anger she had felt when she entered the pub was gone as was most of the alcohol. She stole a glance at Mycroft, his face painted with shadow. A deep unhappiness took hold of her and she felt compelled to speak. “I’m sorry you had to go out of your way to rescue me from myself. I was stupid and all I can do now is try not to be stupid tomorrow. You don’t have to feed me. Why don’t you call your car and take me home. Your offer of a meal is very kind but I am not very good company right now. I know you feel responsible because Sherlock asked you to be but I have survived worse than some stupid man trying to use me. I have been lonely and that loneliness has been an excuse for me to make bad choices. I was being self-indulgent and I’m sorry you had to see it. I can’t promise that I won’t ever do it again but I will think twice next time.” She touched the sleeve of his jacket. “Call the car, Mycroft, I’m tired and I want to go home.”

 

Mycroft looked at her thoughtfully and then keyed his mobile to call his car. She had surprised him with her silence and self-reflection. He had expected her to turn her frustrated anger towards him but instead it had dissipated quietly into the night. She looked sad and he felt an uncharacteristic twinge of empathy as she spoke of being lonely. He had no one either except for his parents and Sherlock and sometimes his nights were very long indeed. Perhaps tonight was not the night to put the fear of the British Government into her. She had punished herself enough already and the approach he had seemed so sure of a few hours ago was no longer palatable to him. Molly Hooper had transformed in his mind from a problem to be dealt with, harshly if necessary, to a relatable human being. How unexpected.

 

“As you wish, Miss Hooper, but I insist upon seeing you safely to your door.” He offered his arm and after a moment’s hesitation, she took it.

 

She looked at him, a question in her eyes. “All right, if you insist. Why are you being so nice to me?”

 

He stopped and looked down into her face.  She looked exhausted and the pain the past few days was obvious in the tightness of her jaw and tension in her shoulders. “Do not confuse being nice with me allowing you the dignity of coming to your own conclusions regarding your choices and motivations. You have been punished enough, Miss Hooper. Don’t you think I know what you put yourself through for Sherlock?  What you are still putting yourself through? I may be bastard but I am a perceptive bastard. Stop being so hard on yourself and let it go.”

 

Tears rose in her eyes at his words and the emotions that welled up were so strong they stopped her mid-stride. He was right. This wasn’t about some oily tabloid reporter. This was about Sherlock. She had to let it go, had to let him go, or it would tear her to pieces. A few tears fell but she straightened her back, squared her shoulders and nodded.  

 

They crossed the park to where the long, black car was waiting. He opened the door for her and handed her in. They rode the few blocks to her flat in silence, each deep in thought. The car pulled up in front of her flat and Mycroft got out and came around the car to open the door for her. He offered is hand and she took it, glad of its warmth in the cold air.

 

They stood for a moment in front of Molly’s door. She slid his coat from her shoulders and handed it back to him. Her keys were in her hand and she was ready to go in.

 

He looked down at her. She was so small and looked so vulnerable. Her face was serious but not as sad as it had been in the park. She would be all right but he would keep an eye on her none the less. Why did he feel so uncomfortable just leaving her here? Very odd indeed.

 

He reached into his suit jacket pocket, withdrew a business card and handed to Molly. “This is my personal contact information, Miss Hooper. I know that you have limited regard for me but if you ever need anything, please call.”

 

She looked up at him and saw only patience and neutrality in his face. He could have been surpassingly cruel to her tonight and had chosen to try to help her instead. His behavior was unexpected given their past interactions.  Perhaps Mycroft was not as bad as Sherlock had made him out to be.

 

“Thank you again, Mycroft. Talking things out with you really helped me. I know you have never thought much of me either but I’m grateful that you forgot that fact, if only for tonight.” She extended her hand, he took it and she shook it lightly. When he did not let go she looked up into his face he pulled her towards him, kissed her gently on the forehead and released her hand. Blushing furiously she gave him a half smile, withdrew quickly, unlocked the door and was gone.

 

Mycroft stood for a moment feeling the night around him and wondering at his actions. Perhaps he had indeed just wanted to do something nice for Miss Hooper - improbable but not impossible. He looked up at the stars for the first time tonight, pushed his hands deeper into his coat pockets and thought of Sherlock and the personal carnage he had left behind him after the fall. Miss Hooper was just one of many suffering in the aftermath. Perhaps he had judged her too harshly.

 

He signaled his driver to drive on as he was suddenly seized with the desire to walk the streets of London just as he had when he was young. He had thought nothing of it then, confident he would always have another opportunity to breathe the night air and revel in his youth. Well, he was no longer young and the joy of walking the streets of London after midnight had been lost to him just like so many other things. Who was being self-indulgent now? He turned to be on his way and caught the scent of Molly Hooper on his coat, a subtle mix of freesia and her own clean scent. His smiled to himself and found himself thinking of her, wishing she was still beside him filling the emptiness he had lived with so long.  He shook his head and started walking.  Alone protected him, alone suited him and alone was all he knew now.  It was too late to start wishing for things that would never be.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

Molly woke with splitting headache, a parched throat and her cat wailing pitifully in her ear. She had taken two NSAIDs last night along with a large glass of water but her alcohol intake had prevailed and now she had quite the head. Also, she had neglected to feed Toby who was now punishing her for her grave offense.  Time for some coffee, heavy on the cream and sugar and a bit of food and she would be right as rain, at least by afternoon. 

 

She wrapped herself in her ratty but comfy robe and fed the damned cat to shut him up.  She started the coffee and drank another large glass of water. She then went to the loo and was horrified by what she saw in the mirror.  Her hair was rumpled, yesterday’s makeup was caked around her eyes and she looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks. More hydration, caffeine and food were in order. Then a nice long shower, more coffee and more head drugs. She would spend a quiet Saturday at home recovering from her little adventure and would be ready for work by Tuesday. Thank goodness Monday was a bank holiday as she would be useless today. Her long weekend wasn’t spoiled after all thanks to Mycroft Holmes.

 

Her brows furrowed together as she drank her coffee and tried to recall exactly what happened last night. He had found her in the pub, they had gone for a long walk and he had taken her home. He had also kissed her on the forehead and lent her his coat. Everything else was blur except for the fact that he had been kind to her. Now there was a word she would have never ascribed to Mycroft Holmes before last night. She remembered his hand warm in hers and the scent of sandalwood and spice that clung to his coat. He had made her feel better after her miserable experience with the tabloid reporter. They had also spoken of Sherlock and he had given her permission to let it him go, let the whole thing go and get on with her life. She had been unaware how much tension and pain she had been holding inside of her and the relief his simple words had given her was immense.

 

She picked up his card from a side table and looked more closely at it. Engraved on fine ivory stock with simple mobile number and what she assumed was his monogram, M.L.H… Would she see him again or was last night just an aberration? She was grateful to Mycroft and wished they could be friends or something. Something like what? Go figure as before yesterday she really hadn’t liked him at all. She guessed appearances were deceiving and even Mycroft Holmes was human. She would have to try and do something nice for him in future. However, today was a new day and she had a hangover to nurse and some changes to make in her life. Time to get on with things, Molly, she thought to herself as she poured another cup of coffee, stroked Toby and went into the loo to take a shower and soak her poor head.

 

******

 

Across town Mycroft Holmes sat in his town house, drinking tea and finishing his crosswords.  He was sitting in his favorite chair, wearing his favorite dressing gown and drinking his favorite tea. In spite of the normalcy of his morning, he could not banish Molly Hooper from his thoughts. It was not unpleasant thinking about her but the thoughts distracted him and he disliked being distracted. What was wrong with him? He turned back to last and most difficult puzzle and re-doubled his efforts to concentrate.

 

He had walked many miles the night before, crossing through diverse neighborhoods and cutting through several small urban parks. At 2:00 AM, just as he had keyed his mobile to summon his driver, he walked around a corner and saw a fox.  It was standing alone in the light of a street lamp, wild and beautiful. It stared at him for a long moment before turning tail and bounding off into the shadows. Now that’s not something one sees in London everyday he thought to himself as his car came around the corner to pick him up. If a fox crosses your path you will be given an opportunity, hadn’t he read that somewhere? A pity that Molly wasn’t here to see it as she would have appreciated the magical quality of coming across a creature most suited to fields and fens on the sidewalk of an urban street. Molly Hooper again, he definitely needed to get home and get some sleep. Home and rest would reestablish his equilibrium and the small pathologist would be once more filed in the appropriate place and would cease to be of interest. Yes, that would do it he thought as he sank into the soft leather of his car upholstery as it sped across London to his town home.

 

He was thinking about her again, blast and damnation. He threw down his pencil in frustration and sighed heavily. His efforts to file her had failed and he was seized with an impulse to call her to make sure she was all right. She had been mostly sober when he dropped her off last night but he was almost certain that she would have a bad hangover this morning. He picked up his mobile and then put it down again.  The impulse to call her might pass and he should wait until later this afternoon. He shook his head, folded his yet unfinished crossword and got up from his comfortable chair. Forty five minutes on the treadmill and then a shower should clear his brain. Then, if he still had the impulse to call Miss Hooper he might just do so.

 

******

 

Molly could not stop thinking about Mycroft Holmes and it was making her crazy. She had spent the day drinking milky tea, taking it easy and doing her laundry. Her headache had vanished and after a long, hot shower some of her color had returned and she no longer looked ill when she looked in the mirror. She had tidied up the flat, did some laundry and caught up on her bills. However, no matter what she did her thoughts strayed back to Mycroft. He had been so kind to her and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was lonely with Sherlock gone. He did not seem to be a person that hung out with his mates down at the local pub. Maybe she would call him later. Or, maybe not as he might not take kindly to her contacting him without a good reason.  She was torn between the urge to talk to him again and the thought that he might reject her. What had happened to her resolve to become a braver, truer person?  He had given her his personal card and he had kissed her, on the forehead like a sister true, but it was a kiss none the less.  She hated it when she went all wishy-washy and could not make up her mind. Grow up indeed, Miss Molly.

 

Frustrated, she decided she needed to get out of the flat for some air. It was mid-afternoon and a walk would do her good.  The sun was shining and she had better take advantage of it before the late fall rains started. She would take a walk and pop by her favorite Thai place for some takeaway and watch an old favorite movie tonight. She would think about whether or not to call Mycroft later.

 

Mind made up, she grabbed her coat and purse, dumped some kibble into Toby’s bowl and left the flat.  At street level now, she did not hear her mobile ringing where she had left it behind on a side table.

 

She returned to the flat several hours later. She had discovered she had left her mobile behind two blocks into her walk but decided it would be good to be electronics free for an afternoon and went on her way.  She had her walk and hit the Thai place on her way home where she met an old friend from Bart’s and they had spent thirty minutes or so catching up. Then, takeaway in hand and feeling much more sure of herself, she made her way back to her flat.  She would indeed call Mycroft Holmes. What could be the worst thing that would happen? He might be cool but after last night she was sure he would be polite. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and it was worth the small risk to her ego if he cut the conversation short.

 

The first thing she heard upon entering the flat was a chime from her mobile. She was sure it was her mum calling and wondering if they could meet up for lunch and some shopping Monday as was their habit on a bank holiday. She set down the takeaway, hung up her coat and sat down to check her messages. There were three, one from her mum and two from numbers she didn’t recognize right away.

 

The first one indeed was from her mum:

 

_Molly, why aren’t you picking up? I thought you said you would be home all weekend and you always have your mobile. Are you ignoring me? Are we still on for lunch on Monday or have you made other plans? It would be nice if you would call your mother to let her know. Call me as soon as you get home._

Molly rolled her eyes and hit the delete button. She would call her mum after listening to the next two messages.

 

The second message was less fraught but more irritating:

 

_Hi, Molls, it’s Melanie. I met this really hot bloke last night in the pub and he wants to go down to Exmoor for the weekend. You know how it is, camping and tramping? Funny, hey? I am really on a roll and you would not believe how hot this bloke is! Anywho, can you take my Sunday and Monday shifts for me? Call me back, it’s urgent. I will call Pam as well but she usually tells me to sod off. Cheers!_

Fat chance, Miss Melanie, hot bloke or not she had pulled the shifts and she would work them. She pushed the button for the third and final message, there was a pause so long that she thought it was a misdial and then his voice came on the line:

 

 _Miss Hooper, this is Mycroft Holmes, I trust you are feeling better today and that you have gained some perspective overnight._ There was a long pause and then the message continued _. I walked for a long time after I left you last night, treading paths I have not taken for many years. Along the way I saw a fox in Battersea and thought of you. If it pleases, call me back._

Molly keyed her mobile to listen to Mycroft’s message again. A fox in Battersea, had he gone round the bend? His message was surpassingly odd but her curiosity was piqued. Why had he called her? She sat staring off into middle distance for a moment. Eat first and then respond as she needed all of her wits about her. She finished her dinner, sat down with a cup of tea and hit the call back icon. He picked up almost immediately but said nothing. Molly was a bit confused but after a long moment started to talk.

 

“Uh, Mycroft? You called me?” She had felt so confident a few moments ago and was now feeling somewhat stupid. Why wasn’t he talking?

 

“Ah, Miss Hooper” he finally began, “thank you for calling me back. I hope you are feeling better. I must admit I have been concerned since I left you last night.”

 

“Fine, I am just fine. You were very kind last night and it was good of you to see me home. It was a bit touch and go this morning but I feel quite well now. I appreciate you checking on me, it is very thoughtful.” Molly rolled her eyes; she was mirroring his precise language and feeling even more stupid. Why was this so hard?  Probably because it was Mycroft Holmes on the phone not just some regular bloke she had met at a pub.

 

Mycroft went on and there was an uncharacteristic hesitancy in his voice. “I was wondering if you might like to take a quick trip out of town? The countryside is lovely this time of year with the fall coming on and I thought you might enjoy a drive. I know Surrey quite well and there are some splendid walks with excellent pubs along the way.”

 

Molly was now the one who was hesitant. “Go out of town? With you?”

 

“Miss Hooper, I realize that my behavior is out of character and that you have no reason to want to go anywhere with me. So, I will be frank. I listened carefully to you last night and though you were somewhat impaired, some of the things you said made me realize that I too have been isolating myself since the fall.” He paused and his voice seemed sad. “I have not taken to drink but have been restless and not sleeping well. I think I miss our absent friend more than I would like to admit. I slept better last night after our talk and my late night walk than I have in months. You would be doing me a great service if you agreed to accompany me tomorrow. I think a day out of London would do us both a world of good. What do you say?”

 

“All right, I believe you. Yes, I say yes. When would you like to go?” Molly leaned back in her chair overcome with disbelief. She had just said yes to going to Surrey on an outing with Mycroft Holmes. She was willingly going to get into a car with him and go to the country for the day. Had she gone completely mad? She had not been able to get him out of her head and here was the perfect opportunity to find out what that was all about, for good or ill.

 

“Excellent, I shall call for you at 8:00 AM tomorrow at your flat. Wear sensible clothes and shoes and bring some layers as it can be quite cool. I shall look forward to seeing you. Good night, Miss Hooper.”

 

“Molly, Mycroft, please call me Molly. I’ll see you in the morning.” She smiled to herself as she disconnected. Whatever tomorrow would bring it would certainly be interesting. Maybe she could even be friends with Mycroft Holmes given time. It was worth a try at least since both of them seemed to be struggling in Sherlock’s absence. They just might be able to help each other through the worst of their worries. It would be a great relief to her just to be with someone who knew what she knew. They might even have fun if Mycroft was capable of having fun. Hmmm, interesting concept.

 

It was time to call her mum and Melanie and let them know that she actually had plans for the holiday. Then she would have to dig up some clothes for tomorrow that wouldn’t embarrass her too badly. No use getting nervous now, she had said yes and she was going to Surrey with Mycroft Holmes in the morning.

******

 

Across town, Mycroft Holmes sat in his favorite chair sipping his favorite scotch and fretting. He still could not believe that she had actually said yes and they were going to Surrey in the morning. What had he been thinking? A small moment of weakness on his part and now he would have to spend most of the day with the woman. Perhaps he could have Anthea arrange a convenient coupe or some other crisis?  No, he had asked her and he would honor the date. Date? Did she think this was a date? Good Christ, he hoped not because it definitely wasn’t a date. If she hadn’t decided to get drunk, if he hadn’t decided to rescue her, if he hadn’t taken that walk, if he hadn’t seen that damned fox he would not be going to Surrey in the morning with Sherlock’s pet pathologist. It was that damn fox’s fault.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

Molly was ready.  She had dressed in corduroy slacks, a fleece vest and turtleneck, all in relatively subdued colors. She had pulled out her old back pack from her Uni days and threw in a rain jacket that had a zip out lining and some gloves. She looked casual but put together and was happy with her ensemble. Almost 8:00 AM, might as well sit and finish her coffee while she waited.

 

Her mind boggled thinking about what Mycroft might wear. She had never seen him in anything but highly tailored establishment suits.  Very nice suits, yes, but what on earth would he wear for a trip to the country? As long as there were no plus-fours or funny footwear she would probably be able to control herself and not crack up. Why was she doing this? Yes, he had been nice to her but just this once.  What about all those other times he had ignored her, brushed her off and looked down that long nose at her? She just hoped he didn’t think this was a date because although he had piqued her interest last night, when she was somewhat drunk mind you, he definitely wasn’t her type. Remember the litany from your psych class in Uni Miss Molly: _Past behavior was the best predictor of future behavior._ She had had more than enough experience with that one.

 

She got up, checked the time and glanced out the window. She saw a Range Rover and just a glimpse of Mycroft as he entered the building. There was no lift so he was on his way up the stairs. Any minute he would knock on the door and she would have to answer it.  Why was she so nervous? Get a grip. Molly, it’s only a day and no matter what happens it will pass.

 

He knocked and she opened the door. Well, well, Mycroft Holmes could indeed dress down though she would have never believed it without seeing it for herself. He was wearing a pullover sweater in a faire isle pattern and corduroy slacks topped off by a tweed sports jacket. Open collar, no tie and no pocket square, was the world out of joint? She would not have recognized him if she passed him on the street.

 

“Wow, you look really great.” She said without thinking. “Uhh, what I meant is that you look normal. No wait, that’s not what I meant. You look friendly? Ouch, that doesn’t sound right either. Sorry, so sorry.” He stared at her, his hand still on the door knob and she knew she had to save this somehow. She blushed, closed her eyes and started again. “Hello Mycroft, how nice to see you. Won’t you come in? I like the casual look, it suits you.”

 

Her backtracking must have worked because the hand came off the door knob and he stepped inside her small flat. He looked at her closely possibly suspecting a liquid breakfast augmented with alcohol and spoke. “Good morning, Miss Hooper, you look very nice as well.  I trust you are ready to go?”

 

Still blushing, Molly grabbed her pack. “Yes, ready to go. What’s on the agenda?”

 

Mycroft was still looking at her like she might explode. “Are you always so….wound up in the morning? I was going to suggest stopping to get coffee but I fear the worse should you drink anymore.”

 

Time to come clean Miss Molly she thought to herself. “Uhh, I’m a bit nervous, Mycroft. I know I said yes to your invitation and I really do want to go to Surrey with you but I am a bit wound up. This is just so odd… I mean, unexpected, and I don’t quite know how to behave. I have always thought you didn’t like me. Why do you want to spend the day with someone you don’t like?”

 

Mycroft nodded, understanding at last. “Ahhh, I understand now. You must realize, Miss Hooper that I project a specific persona while I am working and I am working most of the time. I have seen you perhaps three times before? Four, I think, including last night. Each time we have met it has been under stressful circumstances in the morgue at Bart’s or because of some nonsense that Sherlock was involved with. I barely noticed you let alone had time to form an opinion of you. Last night was the first time we ever really spoke to one another and though it was odd, I saw you, really saw you and you were not what I expected. You piqued my curiosity and here I am.  Please do not be nervous. This is not a date. Let’s just have a pleasant day in the country with no expectations and limited assumptions.”

 

Molly let out a huge sigh of relief. “OK, I’m OK. Not a date, no expectations, just a nice drive and a nice walk.  I can do that.” Good god, she was still rattling. Calm down, girl!

 

Mycroft smiled and his face softened. “Molly, if it makes you feel any better, I feel a bit nervous as well. I seldom venture far from my town house or club and though I enjoy the country, I generally enjoy it alone. So, this is new for me too. Shall we?” He opened the door and mock bowed to her, all the while letting his expressive eyebrows tell her he was having her on.

 

Molly laughed at his show of mock courtliness and felt much better. “Thank you, kind sir; I am quite ready to go.”

 

She swept through the door, he closed it and it locked behind them. The adventure had begun.

 

******

 

They had a lovely day as the weather was perfect with a brilliant blue autumn sky, big fleecy clouds and perfect temperatures. Mycroft drove the Range Rover with a quiet assurance which surprised her since he was generally driven everywhere. It was a nice change from the ubiquitous black sedan just like the casual clothes. After the first hour her suspicions faded and she found herself relaxing and then having a nice time. They talked of this and that - families, growing up, likes and dislikes. They avoided talk of work and Sherlock but that was just fine with her.

 

They took the scenic loop around Surrey starting at Guilford. They went through Shere to Dorking where they drove up Box Hill and took a short walk enjoying the lovely views over the town. They then drove on and zig-zagged up Leith Hill, parking at the car park and then hiking up to the top to explore the tower and the views of London and the channel from the top. Mycroft knew a bit of the history of the tower which had stood on the site for 250 years. It was a bit windy but beautiful and after returning to the car, they backtracked to Guilford where they had a hearty and pleasant dinner in a rustic pub. They took no selfies, left their respective mobiles in the car and had lovely time just being in the moment.

Afterwards they had short walk along the river way before returning to the car and heading home.

 

It was mostly dark as when they arrived back in London. Molly was tired as they pulled up to her flat but she had indeed had a good day with Mycroft Holmes. The bank holiday was over and she had to go back to work in the morning. It had indeed been good to get out of town and she was sure she would sleep well tonight.

 

“Care to come up for a cup of tea?” She asked him as she gathered her things, now scattered about the car. He looked at her with what seemed to be genuine regret on his face.

 

“Perhaps next time. I have to go abroad tomorrow and am unsure as to when I will be back. I need to go home, pack and go over my itinerary.”

 

“Well in that case, thank you for the lovely day. I very much enjoyed myself and it was good getting to know you better.” Molly felt a brief pang of disappointment but it was short lived.

 

“As did I and thank you for agreeing to come along. Shall I call you on my return? There may be some decent weather left before winter sets in. We could try going north next time or maybe to the sea.”

 

Molly smiled at him, her brief disappointment forgotten. “I would like that very much.”

 

Mycroft got out of the Rover and came round to open her door and hand her out. “Have everything?”

 

She took one last look in the car. “Yes, looks like I’ve got everything. Have a good trip.”

 

“Thank you, but I am sure it will be tedious as my work mostly is these days. However, duty calls and I must obey.”

 

He walked her to her outer door and stood with her as she unlocked it and held it open with her hip. She smiled up at him. “Good night, Mycroft, thanks again.”

 

He looked down into her face, placed his hands on her shoulders and gently leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. “Good night, my dear.”

 

She blushed, looked up at him shyly through her lashes and went inside. She climbed the stairs, smile still on her face. That had been fun and she truly hoped he would call again after his return. He was now an ally instead of an adversary and though he was nothing like Sherlock, they still had his absence in common and perhaps they could provide each other with some comfort and companionship.

 

Toby would around her feet as she entered the flat, mewing pitifully to signal his displeasure at her absence and his imminent starvation. She turned on the light, went to the window, drew back the sheer and was surprised to see him still standing next to the Rover. He raised his hand in farewell, got into the car and drove away. He had been waiting to make sure she got in all right. How sweet was that and how long had it been since any chap had done that for her?

 

She let the sheer drop, fed the cat and got ready for bed. Just before dropping off she gave in to impulse and sent off a quick text.

 

_I really did have a good time today. Travel safely and come back soon._

 

She turned off the light, climbed into bed and just as she was slipping into sleep, her phone chimed.

 

_As did I. See you soon._

She smiled down at the phone and keyed off the light. She lay back down and snuggled into her covers. He might just call her when he got back and she found herself hoping that he would.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 

It was almost a month to the day when she saw him again. It was the end of her shift and she was finishing up the last of the day’s paperwork when she heard the lab door open.  Expecting Melanie or another of her colleagues, she looked up and there he was. His clothing was perfect as usual but his face was tired. She felt a little surge of happiness that he had come to see her as tired as he was.

 

“How long have you been back?” she asked, trying to keep her face neutral and failing with a broad smile, hoping that it hadn’t been two weeks and he was just getting round to her now.

 

He sat in the chair next to her desk and sighed. “Yesterday late. Things got drug out, negotiations broke down, venues changed and it was an altogether nasty business overall. Sorry I didn’t call last night but I was not fit to talk to.” He was tired. She could see it in the set of his shoulders and she felt badly for him.

 

Getting up, she stood next to him, laid a hand on his shoulder and bent down to kiss him on the cheek. “It’s good to see you and I am sorry you’re so tired. You should be home in bed and not here visiting me at work.”

 

He smiled at her thinly, briefly put his hand over hers and straightened up in the chair. “Actually, I was hoping you might join me for an early dinner. Your shift is over soon and if you have no other plans we could go to one of my favorite cafes near here. It would do me good to hear what you been up to this past month.  Good lord, it feels more like six months since we had our day in Surrey. You must think me a cad for not getting back to you.”

 

She looked at him and shook her head. “A cad? I thought that word had gone out of standard usage in the 1920’s.” She smiled and sat down again.  “Yes, I wondered why you didn’t call but you did not say when you would be back so I assumed you got hung up. Also, your usual sunny disposition is somewhat lacking so it must have been a hard trip.” He mock glowered at her and she in turn looked at her watch. “I am off in fifteen minutes and would love to have dinner with you. However, it will be a brief dinner as I can see how tired you are and you need to get some rest.”

 

“Excellent, I will wait for you in the car out front. You know the one – long, black and anonymous.” He bent and kissed her on the cheek and she blushed slightly at the attention. “It’s good to see you too.”

 

He rose and was out the door. She smiled at his retreating back. She had thought him somewhat of a cad but had waffled back and forth as she knew his job was difficult. The primary things she was feeling right now was relief that he was back and worry that he seemed so dispirited as well as tired. She would do her best to cheer him up over dinner with an adventures-of-Molly report which would include several interesting bodies that had crossed her table in the morgue, the latest Scotland Yard gossip and a short report on the films and museum exhibits she had managed to attend. He would either be fully asleep or stupefied by the end and she would pack him off home to bed. It was indeed good to see him.

 

******

 

Mycroft was indeed tired as he took the lift to the morgue in St. Bart’s. He had been living in hotel suite in northern Italy for three weeks and though it had been a very nice suite, the days had been long and mostly unproductive and the nights even longer. He had thought of texting Molly as things drug on but never seemed to find the nerve. The day they had spent in Surrey seemed like something that had happened in an alternative universe where mostly normal people lived, not Mycroft Holmes. So, he had persevered through the negotiations, the outcome less than he wanted but more than he expected and felt his heart lift as his plane landed in London and he was delivered to his comfortable town home after midnight. He would text or call Molly tomorrow.

 

By the time he greeted the staff and went to bed it was well after 3:00 AM and he had to report not much later that morning. He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow and he moaned when the alarm rang seemingly only five minutes later. He drank two cups of strong coffee, threw himself into the shower and dressed for the day. He arrived at work, met with his superiors for several hours, put out several small fires, met with his staff and by day’s end he was exhausted and feeling slightly let down as he always did after such a daunting mission. He had succeeded by great effort and tact but it had worn him out. Even Anthea looked at him with concern when he put his head into his hands for the 4th time.

 

“I think it’s time you go home, have dinner and tuck yourself up for the night. I think the British Government has gotten enough out of you for the day.” She patted him on the shoulder as she went out the door. “England will be safe overnight I think and if not you can deal with it in the morning. Goodnight boss, welcome back.”

 

Mycroft left his office and summoned his car. It was after 5:00 PM and Molly should be getting off her shift at Bart’s. He would stop by and see if she was still speaking to him after his long silence and ask her out to dinner. He had thought of her often while he was away. She would slip into his mind unbidden during a lull in the discussions or late at night while he tried to get to sleep in his luxurious but sterile suite. Their day in Surrey had been everything he had hoped it would be.  Fresh air, decent company and a blessed break from the constant stress of work. She was far more well-read and intelligent than he had previously thought and though he had reviewed her file after the night he had taken her home from that dreadful pub, the file told him little about her generosity of spirit, patience and strength of character. Their banter had been relaxed and they had enjoyed the countryside and drive equally. By the end of the day they had gone from somewhat hostile acquaintances to the start of a tentative friendship.

 

The car pulled up in front of Bart’s band he got out, stretched and took a deep breath of the early evening air. It had rained earlier and the streets still shimmered with moisture. The air was damp and cool and refreshing after a long day inside. He swept through the doors and into the lift. He hoped that she would be happy to see him and then berated himself for the thought. She either would or she wouldn’t and there wasn’t much he could do about that.

 

He walked down the corridor to her office and paused outside the door, studying her in the fading afternoon light.  She was at her desk working on some paperwork. Her hair was put up in a sloppy bun that had mostly fallen down and she twisted one strand around her finger as she worked. Her face was serious with concentration and she unconsciously tapped her pen on the paper as she thought. She was no great beauty but she had a warm and sympathetic face and lovely brown eyes. Time to face the music he thought and opened the door.

 

She glanced up and when she saw him her face blanked for a moment and then broke out in a broad smile. He felt the last bit of tension over seeing her uncoil and felt a huge relief as he walked into her office and sat in the chair next to her desk. She rose after greeting him, standing close with a hand on his shoulder and she kissed his cheek in greetings. Her concern for him was touching and he could tell she was worried. She agreed to go out to dinner with him and he left her to finish her shift.

 

He left the hospital the way he came and sat in the car waiting for her shift to end. It was indeed nice to be home and to see Molly Hooper again.

 

*****

Their dinner was simple but pleasant in an out of the way café with few patrons and excellent food. The service was quick and the atmosphere subdued. Molly found herself doing most of the talking as Mycroft was indeed tired and could not discuss where he had been and what he had been doing.

 

He asked her how she was feeling and she told him the truth. She had recovered from the tabloid reporter but was still struggling to balance her secrets with her current life. She had been avoiding John Watson, Mrs. Hudson and Greg Lestrade out of guilt and not wanting to lie to them any more than she already had. But just like a real death, she had not allowed herself to mourn Sherlock’s loss after the fall. She had started that process and thought she might be ready to get back in touch. She missed them all and her life felt empty without them.

 

They finished eating and as they left the restaurant, Mycroft’s hand settled on the small of her back and he assisted her on with her coat. Molly enjoyed the small attentions and smiled at him as he opened the car door for her. The car sped towards her neighborhood and Molly insisted that he go straight home after dropping her off.

 

As they sat in the car in front of Molly’s flat, she turned to him, her eyes concerned “It is lovely to see you, Mycroft, and I’m glad you’re home but you are a zombie and need to go home and sleep for twelve hours or so.  Don’t get up as I can see myself to the door. Call me in a day or two after you have some time to recover.” She slid across the seat and kissed him on the cheek but before she could slide back, he pulled her into a hug, her head tucking neatly under his chin. He was warm and smelled good and she gently returned the embrace. “That feels nice. You are an old softie when you’re tired, you know. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” She kissed the side of his neck and he let her go. “Goodnight, Mycroft.”

 

“Goodnight, Molly. I will call you later this week.” He smiled at her and she shut the door.

 

She left the car and dashed across the sidewalk, opening her door quickly and running up the stairs. She unlocked her flat and just like a month ago, turned on the light and went to the window. She looked down at the waiting black car and raised her hand in farewell. The car pulled away from the curb and vanished into the night. Mycroft Holmes had just hugged her and it was nice. She smiled sunnily to herself and hoped that he would be just as friendly after getting some sleep as he was tonight. It looked as if they could be friends after all.

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The months passed and Molly saw Mycroft once a week or so depending on his schedule. He was out of country often and there were times when she heard nothing from him for weeks on end. To give him credit, he did warn her ahead of time so she would not be disappointed if he did not show up at the coffee shop where they met mid-week if he was in town. They had not left London again as the weather had turned cold and it was just as likely to sleet than rain.

 

He became a regular visitor at Bart’s, sometimes for a case, but most of the time just if he was passing by. Melanie and her other colleagues had gotten used to him and though they teased her relentlessly at first over her “posh boyfriend” they soon tired of it as Molly did not rise to the bait. Soon Mycroft was just part of the scenery and though it delighted Molly every time he stopped by, the other staff barely noticed him anymore.

 

She received a fresh bout of teasing when flowers were delivered on her birthday along with an exquisite set of obsidian scalpels. Mycroft had also taken to having lunch or dinner delivered once a month or so after only one visit to Bart’s cafeteria. Molly had never forgotten the look on his face when he saw the limp chicken parmesan baking under the cafeteria lights. The food would arrive by courier, wrapped and boxed beautifully with real plates and silverware. Molly drew the line at wine but very much enjoyed the chilled mineral water. It was a great coup among her work friends to be on Molly’s shift and score the extra dessert that Mycroft always ordered.

 

They went to museums and the theatre but never to the cinema or pubs. Molly had her girlfriends with which she shared these pleasures so it didn’t matter to her. Neither of them had been inside of each other’s home yet but that was also all right. Their coffee and lunch dates suited them both and they had reached a place where they were relaxed with each other and had let down their guard. Mycroft challenged Molly’s intellect and Molly encouraged him to laugh more and to be less formal, with her at least. They both enjoyed each other’s company and both looked forward to seeing each other.

 

With Mycroft as a constant, if irregular, part of her life, Molly was happier and the secrets she kept were lighter thanks to his friendship. She came to look forward to their visits and found herself sad if he could not make their weekly coffee.  She had come to a place of uneasy acceptance with her role in Sherlock’s fall and though she still felt guilty, she had reconnected with John Watson, Mrs. Hudson and Greg Lestrade. She avoided Baker Street but met John for lunch a few times and called Mrs. Hudson at least once a week. Greg was easier as she saw him often at Bart’s. Once she had made friendly overtures, he asked her to go to the pub a few times with friends but when he asked her out, she gently refused him. He was gracious as always and asked her if there was someone else. She had said no but when she did she thought of Mycroft.

 

That same night as she sat in her flat eating dinner and reading a book, she wondered why she had turned him down. He was good looking, had an interesting job and seemed normal.  Molly liked him but did not want to out with him. He was more fun to flirt with in a harmless way as he would play along and flirt back without taking offense. He was nice but he was not for her. She liked her life the way it was and did not want to change it. It no longer mattered to her if she went out on dates or not and since befriending Mycroft she had not gone out at all except with her mates. How odd, she had barely noticed.

 

As she cleaned up her dishes after dinner and made a cup of herbal tea, she pondered her reaction to Greg asking her out. Surely Mycroft wouldn’t care if she went out on a date. It wasn’t as if they were dating or anything. Or were they? They saw each other often, the relationship seemed exclusive and they had grown a lot closer over time. Molly had never really thought about it before but was certainly thinking about it now.  Did she want to date Mycroft Holmes?

 

Nah, she thought, it’s much better the way it is. He was cute in a buttoned up way and he was far more accessible than she had ever dreamed he would be but was he boyfriend material? The word boyfriend and Mycroft just did not seem to go together. Why mess up their friendship by even thinking about it? However, now she was thinking about it seemed she couldn’t get it out of her head. Oh well, it might be fodder for a brief fantasy but as unlikely their current friendship was, the idea of them dating was even more unlikely. She shook her head, chided herself for being silly and put the idea out of her head.

 

******

 

It was mid-afternoon and Mycroft had had a stressful day at work. He was on his way to an appointment but was early and his route would take him past Bart’s. He directed his driver to stop at their coffee shop where he picked up two cups of coffee and lemon bars to go. He would pop by the morgue and surprise Molly on her break. That would cheer him up and help him face the next six hours with the Russian ambassador and his entourage.

 

The car pulled up to Bart’s and Mycroft got out. It was raining and balancing the bag of coffee and pastries; he popped his umbrella and dashed for the door. Molly wasn’t expecting him but he was sure of his reception, especially because he had brought her favorite versions of caffeine and sugar. He smiled as he anticipated her reaction. She loved lemon bars almost as much as he did.

 

He swept up to the door of the morgue and what he saw through the glass window in the door stopped him in his tracks. Molly was talking to Greg Lestrade and she was smiling and laughing. Lestrade was laughing too and very naturally like he had done it thousands of times, he put his arm around her and kissed the side of her head. She poked him in the ribs, he looked offended and she teasingly made up, giving him a big hug. He hugged her back, picking her off the floor and spinning her around until she was laughing and telling him to stop.

 

He felt shock, followed by an intense wave of hostility towards Lestrade. The hand that gripped the umbrella clenched and his knuckles whitened. Enough was enough, thought Mycroft and he opened the door letting it slam behind him. Their heads came up in surprise and Greg dropped Molly and looked embarrassed. Molly was still laughing and turned towards Mycroft, a big smile on her face.

 

“Hello, Myc….” She caught the look on his face and both her greeting and smile died on her lips. His face was neutral but his eyes were not and she could tell he was not pleased. She quickly stepped away from Greg. “Uh, Greg was here to discuss a case and he was just leaving. Right, Greg?”

 

Greg looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Right you are, Molly, just leaving. Remember to send me those results when you get them back from the lab. Thanks for your help.  Will we see you at the pub this week? Bye, Mycroft.” Greg nodded quickly at Mycroft and was out the door, leaving her to face the music.

 

Molly was embarrassed but decided to brave it out. “Greg is such a tease, I never take him seriously. Are you OK? You don’t look OK. We were just having a bit of fun.”

 

Mycroft drew himself up and looked coolly at her. “I am fine, thank you. Is he always so familiar with you?  You know, he probably wants to take you out. Are you sure you want to encourage him? I have heard that he’s gone through several women since his divorce, are you planning on adding yourself to list?”

 

What on earth was up with Mycroft? His words hurt and Molly felt her eyebrows come together and her anger rise. “Greg is good friend and I have known him for years. And, for your information, he did ask me out recently. I turned him down. What’s it to you anyway?”

 

“Nothing, I just don’t want to have to rescue you from some pub after he breaks your heart. Haven’t you been there and done that already, ad nausem? Why did you turn him down? It’s obvious that wants to date you.”

 

Molly’s anger quickly turned to tears and she didn’t bother to temper her next words. She placed her hands on the steel table between them and leaned forward. Her voice rose and hitched in her throat. “I turned him down because of you, you bastard. He asked me and all I could think about was you and so I said no.” She was crying hard now. “Happy now? Get out of my lab, you son of a bitch.” Molly turned on her heel, still crying and slammed through her office door, locking it behind her.

 

Mycroft stood, shocked again, alone in the center of the lab. Had she said what he thought she said? She wasn’t going to go out with Lestrade because of him? He needed an answer and he needed it now. He walked up to the door and rattled the knob.

 

Molly shrieked at him from the inner office. “Go away; I don’t want to talk to you.”

 

He stood in front of the door, the bag of coffee and pastries in his hand. That had not gone well. He was just about to knock when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. He turned to face Molly’s friend Melanie, her eyes narrowed and her arms crossed.

 

“You heard the lady, she wants you to leave and she does not want to talk to you. I know Molly very well and if I were you, I would make myself scarce. It takes a lot to make her this mad and the last time she threw a test tube at your brother’s head. Lucky for him she was crying too hard to aim properly. Now scoot, she will probably forgive you later if you grovel properly.” Melanie gestured to the door and cocked her head to the side. “Do I have to tell you twice?”

 

Mycroft looked at her his face a study, handed her the bag and swept out the door and down the hall to the lift. He had perhaps jumped to conclusions and been unfeeling in his reaction. This was definitely not good. He would have to apologize and ask for forgiveness. How could he have been so stupid? Was he jealous of Greg Lestrade? She had not gone out with Greg because of him? How unexpected and disturbing. How he was going to get through the Russians now he had no idea. 

 

******

 

Melanie knocked on the door “Come on, Molls, let me in. It’s safe, he’s gone.”

 

Molly emerged from her inner office and unlocked the door. Her face was a sight and she was still sniffling. Melanie walked up to her, bag still in hand, and gave her a hug.

 

“At least he left the bag. What do you say we drink this lovey coffee and…” Melanie paused and looked into the bag, “…and, score! Lemon bars!” She looked a bit self-conscious and tried to look sympathetic. “I mean talk a bit and eat the lemon bars”

 

Molly sniffed, grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. “Might as well since he left them.” She sat down looking dejected and accepted the coffee from Melanie along with her favorite lemon bars from their coffee shop. Damn, why had Greg chosen today to stop in at the morgue?

 

“It’s all my fault, I should have discouraged Greg…”Molly did not have a chance to finish when Melanie cut her off.

 

“Bullshit, Molly, you did nothing wrong. You were having fun with a friend and that ponce ruined it for you. Are you dating that puffed up suit?”

 

“No.”

 

“Are you engaged to that overdressed tosser?”

 

“No.”

 

Melanie looked sternly at her. “Then it’s not your fault and it’s his problem not yours. How does he get off criticizing your behavior? What an asshole,”

 

“Oh Melanie, he’s not that bad and I really enjoy his company. Well, most of the time.” Molly sipped her coffee, it was just as she liked it and she felt a fresh wave of tears. “He was just being thoughtful bringing coffee but I don’t understand why he was so upset.  It was just Greg, for goodness sake; we’ve both known him for years.”

 

Melanie looked at her friend over her coffee and slowly shook her head. “I can’t believe someone as smart as you can be so dumb. The guy fancies you, Molly.  I saw the whole thing and he was smiling like an idiot right up to the point when he saw you and Greg and turned into the devil incarnate. And, the minute he figured out what he had just done, he looked devastated. He’s jealous, you goob, and he doesn’t want to share.”

 

Molly looked flustered. “Do you really think so? No, it can’t be true. Mycroft is just a friend. I like him and all that and we see each other a lot and I haven’t dated anyone since we became friend but…fancies me? I think not.”

 

Melanie looked at her closely, understanding dawning on her face. “The lady doth protest too much… You fancy him too, don’t you? I’ll be damned, you want to date the puffed up suit.”

 

Molly shook her head quickly. “No I don’t… Well, maybe I do. I am just so confused.”

 

“Don’t really get it as he’s definitely not my type but I’ll take the cute copper with the silver hair. What do you say? Introduce us?”

 

Coffee finished, lemon bars consumed and their break over, Melanie patted Molly on the shoulder and turned to get back to work. “Well, you better think about it and have it out with him or there won’t be any more of those lovely lemon bars for either of us. Just don’t forgive him too quickly, he is rather a sod and needs to learn a little humility. Lighten up, Molls. Tempest in a teapot and it will be just fine. Can I have that copper’s number?” Melanie winked at Molly over her shoulder and grinned. Molly smiled weakly in return and promised to introduce her to Greg the next time he came in.

 

Melanie left the office to go back to work, leaving Molly to throw away the take away cups and clean up lemon bar crumbs.  Still three hours until the end of her shift, she had better get after it. She walked down the hall to the loo and splashed her face with cold water. Looking in the mirror she pursed her lips as she noted her puffy eyes and red nose. Lovely, just, lovely. She also felt a headache coming on and would have to take head drugs if the rest of her shift was to be bearable. Damn it, why couldn’t things just stay the same? She stared out the window at the rain and a deep sadness took hold of her. She hoped they could work it as out as she would miss him if they couldn’t. Damn, damn, damn.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 

Damn, damn, damn thought Mycroft Holmes on his way home after a full seven hours with the Russians. He believed the evening’s work had been successful but it was difficult to tell. It would all play out in the next week or two. He felt a headache starting behind his eyes and leaned back into the soft leather upholstery and closed his eyes. What an awful day this had been made even more awful by the scene with Molly and Lestrade in the morgue.  What was wrong with him? Where had his iron self-control been this afternoon? He had lost his temper and exhibited frank and unadulterated jealousy in a public setting. He had alienated Molly whose friendship he valued, embarrassed Lestrade and made a fool of himself in front of Molly’s colleague. Could this day get any worse?

 

He would take Melanie’s advice and grovel but he would attempt to grovel with dignity. It was too late to drop by Molly’s flat right now but he would text her and send her flowers tomorrow with a hand written note of apology. He had been in the wrong and he would apologize and make it up to her. If she had taken Sherlock back after so many slights, she would have the heart to forgive him too. All he could do was try.

 

The more troubling aspect of this afternoon had been his strong emotional reaction to seeing her together with Lestrade. Intellectually he knew they had been friends for a long time but emotionally he had been unprepared to see her in the arms of another man.  The ire and disappointment he had felt had shaken him to the core and he had felt a strong wave of male possessiveness sweep over him. Just thinking about it now made him anxious. Did he have feelings for Molly Hooper? He had pondered the problem all through his ordeal with the Russians and could come to no other logical conclusion. They were at a crossroad and each direction was paved with potential pitfalls.

 

Should they go on as they were or should they explore the possibility of pursuing something more? He thought he might be willing to engage in a more serious relationship but what about her? Emotions were difficult for him and he was struggling to understand this new and not entirely welcome conundrum. In spite of what she had said this afternoon, he was far from certain of her feelings. Alone had always protected him but he did not want to let her go. She had come to mean too much to him. All he could do was extend a hand and see if she was willing to take it. However, he would have to convince her to talk to him again first and convince himself that it was worth making himself that vulnerable.

 

******

 

Molly had ended up working overtime as her replacement for the next shift had called in sick, there had been a head on car crash involving two drunks and she had felt compelled to do the admission on the bodies. Four hours later, replacement staff had come in complaining about having to leaving home on a football night and it took every ounce of Molly’s self-control not to hit him upside the head with her purse. It was after 10:00 PM so he splurged on a cab as she just did not have the energy to face the tube and then a bus to get home. 

 

She trudged up her stairs and unlocked her door. Toby was instantly under her feet yowling like a mad thing. “Yes, I know I’ve been gone all day and you are starving but I have a headache, could you please keep it down?”

 

She turned on the lights, tossed some kibble into Toby’s bowl and started undressing even before she hit the loo. Her head hurt, she stank and she needed a shower. She stood as the hot water sluiced over her and breathed deeply of the freesia scented bath gel she favored.  She felt the stress of the day start draining out of her and the head drugs she had taken before leaving the morgue were finally kicking in. What an awful day, thank goodness she was off tomorrow and through the weekend. She hoped she could sleep in but Toby would jump on her head by 6:00 AM no matter what. 

 

She put on her ratty but comfortable robe and started to dry her hair.  She should be in bed by midnight at this rate. She would have to eat something though as lemon bars just did not cut it for dinner. She had some leftover pad Thai that would do nicely. She had just put the food in the microwave when her mobile chimed. It was Mycroft.

 

_I behaved badly this afternoon and am deeply sorry. Please forgive me._

She had let most of her anger go but was still irritated with him so she ignored the text. Let him stew for a while as he certainly deserved it. Molly finished her make-shift dinner, plugged in her mobile to charge and left it in the kitchen. If he texted again, she would not hear it and that was just fine with her.   

 

She turned out the lights and lay in bed watching the muted reflections of the street lights on her ceiling. It felt so good to lie down and not think about anything. She faintly heard her mobile chime in the other room but ignored it. Mycroft could wait until morning. She might feel kinder after she had gotten some sleep.

 

******

 

Molly woke up to a flat that was suspiciously quiet. She rolled over and squinted at the clock and was instantly awake. 8:00 AM…was Toby dead? She leapt out of bed, grabbed her robe and stumbled out into her living room. Toby was fast asleep in his favorite chair in the sun. She shook her head and walked into the kitchen. There was a beautiful crystal vase on the table filled with flowers and a card propped up against it.  She glanced down at Toby’s bowl to see the remains of what looked like an entire can of cat food. No wonder the damned cat was still sleeping; he had a wet food hangover. How did Mycroft get in here without waking her up?

 

She looked at the flowers. They were lovely. Luckily, she had picked up the flat last week so it wasn’t a total horror. No knickers lying about and only a modicum of clutter. She picked up the envelope but did not open it as she thought that coffee, scones and getting dressed were in order before she read what he had to say. She was no longer angry.  Melanie was right it was only a tempest in a tea pot. She ambled back into her bedroom and got dressed. She then poured herself a cup of coffee and opened the envelope. She smiled when she saw his distinctive handwriting. She grabbed a scone and went to sit in her most comfortable chair in the living room to read it.

 

_My Dear Molly,_

_I once again apologize for my unorthodox delivery of this missive and flowers. I knew you were at Bart’s until late last night and felt the best way to try and make up for my abysmal behavior yesterday was to facilitate you getting some decent sleep.  Like our absent friend, I have skills generally not needed in my regular work like lock picking. Your cat was highly enthusiastic and appreciative of the food.  I can only hope that he allowed you several extra hours of sleep._

Good grief, he must have written this letter at her table this morning while she was sleeping. She must have been exhausted as she hadn’t heard a thing. She wondered how many women woke up to find someone had broken into their flat and took it so calmly. Was she odd or was it just that she knew both Holmes brothers? At least Mycroft had used the front door. Sherlock favored her bedroom window which could be very disconcerting indeed.

 

_I cannot express how deeply I regret my actions of yesterday. I was cruel, unthinking and cold to the one person who means the world to me. You have been nothing but kind and accepting of my peculiarities and I have been happier in the past few months than I have been in a long time. I acted out of petty jealousy and I am deeply sorry. I called Lestrade and apologized as well._

_I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me. My life would be far poorer if not for you._

_Love,_

_Mycroft_

She held the letter and looked at it for a long time. She had fully intended to not speak to him for at least a few days but felt herself weakening. It was a lovely letter and she thought he really meant what he said.  He must be sorry if he had called Greg as the relations between those two were tense on the best days. His signature confused and pleased her. He had never signed anything “Love, Mycroft” before.

 

Her mobile chimed and she went to pick it up. Several texts were waiting in her inbox.

 

_You have not responded so I assume you are asleep or still angry. I hope it is the former not the latter._

Obviously from Mycroft who had still been fretting after midnight. He must be wrecked this morning. Serves him right.

 

The next was from Greg.

_Molly, you would not believe who just called me. The sod apologized, I can’t believe it. I wish I had let it go to voice mail so I had a recording of the call. The bugger sounded sincere. What have you two been up to? Does he fancy you? He’s a right bastard, you know._

The third was yet another from Mycroft.

 

_I broke into your apartment, fed your cat and left you flowers. Please don’t be angry as I did it with the best of intentions. Please call or text me later. Still sorry._

The fourth and most amusing was from Melanie.

 

_Did the suit grovel sufficiently for you? I gave him specific instructions and told him to watch out for flying test tubes. Hope you are feeling better this morning. At least you’re not working. Don’t give in too soon and text me that copper’s number. See you next week._

 

Well, she was popular this morning. First things first, she would text Mycroft and put him out of his misery.

 

_You are forgiven but we need to talk. Thank you for the lovely flowers and note. Toby may never recover from his wet food binge but I appreciated the extra sleep. Please don’t break in again unless it’s a dire emergency._

Next Greg as she wanted to stave off gossip at the yard. He was such a magpie at times.

 

_I must be a good influence on him but don’t get used to it. Am sure you will be at each other’s throats again soon. As for what we have been up to, none of your business. See you at the pub on Thursday._

Finally she texted Melanie, chuckling over the vision of her confronting Mycroft in the lab.  That must have been something to see. She snapped a quick photo of the flowers and attached it.

 

_Thanks for looking out for me. You know how I hate seeing people suffer so I forgave the git this morning. Can’t live without those lemon bars. He may not have groveled much but he broke in to give me flowers and he fed my cat.  Must be love… I will introduce you to Greg next week, in person, in the lab in a civilized manner.  Have a good weekend and behave._

Her phone chimed. It was another text from Mycroft.

 

_Meet me for coffee later? How about 10:00 AM? I really am sorry._

 

Molly sighed, he was still fretting. This situation might take more finessing than she thought.

 

_Stop fretting, everything’s fine. See you at 10._

Finally putting the mobile down, Molly got up, stretched and poured herself another cup of coffee. Time to get dressed and then catch the tube to meet Mycroft. They were at a tipping point in their friendship and she wasn’t sure which way she wanted it to go. Was everything fine? She wasn’t sure of anything except she wanted to keep him in her life. He wasn’t some low life who sent her flowers only to flatter her enough to plumb information from her. He was Mycroft, she cared for him and he was important to her. Everything else was up for negotiation.

 

******

 

Mycroft hated texting but today he acknowledged its value; short messages, limited emotionality and only a slight chance of being misunderstood. It remained to be seen how well he would do in person later this morning. There was much unsaid between the lines of the simple words they had exchanged. He could only hope they were words she wanted to hear.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 

It was sleeting again and Molly dashed from the tube station to the café trying to stay as dry as possible. Like most of the younger set in London, she eschewed umbrellas and instead wore a hooded rain jacket. It left ones hands free for answering a mobile or carrying packages but had a drawback should the wind be blowing into ones face. The wind was blowing today and her face had been pelted with water and ice. Thank goodness for waterproof mascara.

 

She ran up to the door of the café opened the door and quickly closed it behind her before the wind could take it. She threw back her hood and shook her head, ridding herself of most of the sleet. She walked to the back of the café towards their favorite table; quiet, out of the site lines of most windows and very private. Mycroft had already arrived and once he saw her he folded his crossword, rose and waited for her next to his chair. His face was neutral but she could see creases of worries around his eyes.  Not enough sleep and fretting about yesterday, no doubt. She smiled at him and received a thin smile in return. Hmmm, this might be harder than she thought it would be. He took her coat, hung it on a hook on the wall and held out a chair for her. She sat and he returned to the other side of the table.

 

“Hi Mycroft, stop looking so worried. I have no plans to shriek at you today.” She said nothing else as their regular waitress came up and took their order. No lemon bars for her today, a savory scone instead. She needed bacon and cheddar cheese and not sugar to fortify her for this conversation. He ordered the same.

 

“Good morning, my dear. I hope the trip was not too daunting. The weather is truly foul and I will give you a lift home later if you like.”

 

Oh, thought Molly, they were going to talk about the weather to break the ice. Better than leaping right in she supposed. She felt a bit awkward and he must be feeling the same. They sat in silence while their order was delivered and then sipped their coffee while Molly thawed out.

 

In the end, it was she who threw out the first volley. “So, what was yesterday all about then? You know I have known Greg for years and am not interested in him.  You’re a Holmes for goodness sake. What happened to all that “observing and not just seeing” approach to life that you and Sherlock are so fond of? All this drama could have been avoided if you hadn’t jumped to conclusions.”

 

Mycroft gave her a self-deprecating smile and his hands fidgeted with his mug of coffee. “I couldn’t help it. I saw Lestrade with his hands all over you and I over-reacted. Very odd and deeply troubling.”

 

Molly gawped at him from the other side of the table. Mycroft Holmes “couldn’t help it”?

 

Mycroft’s eyebrows went up and he looked at her sheepishly. “I know; I am having the exact same reaction. The question is why did I lose control and why did I feel it necessary to take it out on you?  Bad form all around and quite inexcusable. We are not dating, we have never spoken of exclusivity and though we have gotten much closer in the past months, that is no excuse for me wanting to throttle Lestrade just for having the temerity to flirt with you, albeit quite aggressively.”

 

Molly listened to this little speech and started to laugh. To give him some credit, Mycroft laughed as well and the tension between them broke. Back on firmer ground it was Molly that spoke first.

 

“Oh Mycroft, you know that I am not interested in Lestrade. In fact, I was planning on introducing him to Melanie, my colleague in the lab, next week. I think they might be perfect for each other for as long as their respective attention spans allow at least.” She smiled at him and reached out across the table to take his hand. “Please don’t be jealous.”

 

Mycroft squeezed her hand, looked uncomfortable and would not meet her eyes. “Lestrade is rather flighty but in many ways he is everything I would like to be in my most vulnerable moments; friendly, easy with people, effortlessly handsome and attractive to women. I have accepted who I am but though I appear to need no one and have carefully built my protective façade over the years, I am still human. I was jealous of Lestrade being so free and easy with you. It comes naturally to him, this affinity with humanity, whereas I struggle with it every day.  I and Sherlock are much the same in this respect. We struggle with feeling like there might be something wrong with us, that we were born missing a crucial element and will never find true happiness or peace. Most of the time it doesn’t matter but I have found that when it comes to you it matters very much.” He looked up into her eyes and she found she couldn’t look away.

 

She reached out for his other hand across the table, holding both to emphasize her words. “You are Mycroft and I don’t want you to be anyone else. I don’t know how I would have gotten through these last months without you. I didn’t turn to Greg or John Watson when I needed someone, did I?  You extended a figurative hand when I was in need, I took it and I have never regretted it. You are important to me, I value your company and all I know is I want you in my life. I would be bereft if you decided that all this was too much for you and you walked away from our friendship.”

 

She paused and blushed slightly, smiling sideways at him. “What do you want, Mycroft? I am here for you and am more than willing to listen. That’s what friends do even it may be uncomfortable or hard.”

 

Mycroft looked relieved. “You are wonderful woman, Molly, and I too would be greatly saddened if I were to lose your friendship. However, there is something more that we need to discuss.” He paused and then went on quickly as though he thought he might lose his nerve.  “Would you consider dating me? I realize that this may seem sudden to you but I have examined my behavior of the past few days and the only logical conclusion possible is that I have feelings for you far beyond those of friendship. I would like to try if you are willing and want the same.”

 

Molly smiled at him indulgently. “I think we might be on the same page, Mr. Holmes. I too have been thinking about whether we should take the relationship down a new path.” Her face and voice grew more serious as she continued.  “However, let’s take it slowly as I really don’t want to lose our friendship. Let’s promise, within reason of course, that we will make every effort to remain friends should dating not work out. Can you do that for me?”

 

Mycroft smiled at her, obviously relieved that his proposal had not been rejected outright. “I think I could see my way to agreeing to those terms, Miss Hooper. Should we shake on it?”

 

Molly laughed and held out her hand, and together, the two friends sealed the pact with a hearty handshake across the table. Things were going to be all right and she was glad.

 

“Thank goodness we got that behind us. I want another cup of coffee and scone. I am starving.” Molly waved down their server and ordered again. Mycroft demurred except for a coffee. “Mustn’t overindulge.”

 

“Oh for goodness sake, have another. Live a little, Mycroft. It’s not like we agree to date each other every day.  You can go back on your diet tomorrow. Today, we celebrate getting through our first real disagreement relatively unscathed. May the next ten be just as smooth.” She lifted her mug of coffee in a toast.

 

Mycroft looked a bit disconcerted but clinked his mug against hers. “You mean this might happen again? Good lord, I hadn’t thought of that.”

 

Molly shook her head and patted his hand. Oh dear, this was going to be fun but challenging.

 

******

 

They spent another hour talking and laughing and making plans for a proper date over the weekend.  A proper date in Mycroft’s mind was dinner and the theatre. Molly concurred and they set a time for the next night.  Mycroft would let her know where they were going so she could dress accordingly. By the end of their coffee, both were feeling much better and looking forward to the new phase of their relationship.

 

They were all smiles when they left the café after Mycroft helped Molly on with her jacket. Their waitress, as if discerning that something momentous had just occurred with her two mismatched regulars, gave them a big smile and wished them a good day. 

 

The sleet had not let up and Mycroft popped his sizeable black umbrella as they dashed out the door to the waiting car. Mid-way on the sidewalk they were hit with a strong cross wind and Mycroft lowered the umbrella to ward off the icy blast and instinctively pulled Molly to him, sheltering her from the worst of the wind.

 

He looked down into her face. Her brown eyes were shining brightly; she laughed merrily and cuddled into him, taking advantage of his warmth and the black cloth dome sheltering them from the worst of the storm.  The sleet hissed around them and drummed off their refuge but they took no notice. Their world narrowed to a small footprint of concrete and the sheltering umbrella.  His face softened as he looked down at her, his eyes asking permission. She rose up on her toes, inviting, and he bent to kiss her, the storm forgotten. Her lips were soft and pliant against his and her arms crept around him, pulling him even closer. The kiss deepened and would have gone on for a good while but the wind changed direction and sleet cascaded down on the couple, making them both laugh and make a break for the car. They slid into the back seat, still laughing; their arms around each other and the car pulled out and vanished into traffic.

 

Inside the café, their waitress paused in her wiping of a table and stood and watched the couple through the window and the worsening weather. She had heard a bit of their conversation, how romantic… that black umbrella, the well-dressed man and the petite and charming young woman. That was some kiss too and it reminded her of her younger days when her husband was sparking her. How nice for them that they had finally really seen how they looked at each other over their coffee and scones. The waitress had hoped against hope that they would figure it out and it seemed that they finally had. They seemed like a pleasant, if slightly mismatched pair and they obviously were well on their way to falling in love. Did a body good seeing young love like that even though it had been slow in coming; made it seem like there was still hope in this bad old world.  She watched the black car as it vanished in the distance and went back to her work, her smile wide and her eyes moist. Yes, it was good to see that love still bridged the distances that divided them all. Yes, indeed it was.

 

 


End file.
